


Starting Right Now

by Ilweran



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e19 New Moon Rising, F/F, Fade to Black, First Time, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11163051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilweran/pseuds/Ilweran
Summary: They don’t make it to the bed.





	Starting Right Now

Willow and Tara have been close before: hugging after not seeing each other for a while (okay, two days), holding hands when they've strolled through the campus, not-quite-cuddling when Tara was feeling down on the anniversary of her mother’s death. Some touches lingered longer than strict just-friends touches might have (and left Willow flushed and restless for hours, as if she was sixteen and bursting with hormones again), but their hands never sought bare skin or strayed into sensitive territory. Willow kept telling herself that since Tara hadn't made the first move, she obviously wasn't interested. She wouldn't be surprised if Tara thought the same about her.

With all that pent-up tension, Willow supposes that it's no wonder that they don't make it to the bed. 

In her defense, she had every intention of starting Project Make-Up sweet and slow, preferably in the light of scented candles that litter every fire-proof surface in Tara's room. (Summoned orbs are safer, but if the caster gets distracted, the orbs have an annoying habit of dissolving into sparks. "Calm and concentrated" doesn't exactly describe either of them right now.) 

It was a good plan, straight (pun mostly not intended) out of the trashy romance books that Willow reads to wind down from studies or slayage-related duties. But then there was kissing, and touching, and stroking and seeking, and before Willow could catch her trembling breath, Tara - quiet, shy Tara who could barely meet her eyes the first time they met - was pulling Willow down onto the pile of embroidered pillows that lay conveniently at their feet. 

Tara is usually so reserved that Willow almost forgot that her girlfriend (and how can such a small word make spell-bright sparks burst in her chest?) is the more experienced party here. Willow kind of assumed that she'd take the lead – that's how her guilty and frustratingly vague fantasies turned out, anyway. 

But Tara smiles that half-smile of hers - except now there’s something... sharper to it, more confident, something that turns Willow's knees into jelly. Her hands drift on Willow's body with uncharacteristic confidence, yet achingly slowly, as if she can’t quite believe that she can, that they've ended up here. Willow sure has difficulty wrapping her head around all that's happened and is happening, but that concern goes out the window when thoughts other than _yes_ and _please_ become harder and harder to hold on to. 

Tara might not work spells on her, but Willow still feels like she's wrapped in magic, safe and aglow, like her world's made of light and warmth and Tara. 

It takes a while before she gets her voice back: 

"Wasn't I supposed to take care of you?" 

"You think that didn't get anything out of it?" Tara grins, beautiful and a tiny bit wicked. It’s a good look on her, and Willow quietly vows to bring it out more often. "But... um, if you want to return the favor..." 

The confidence in her voice wavers only by a fraction, but it's clearly noticeable to somebody who's spent the last few months clinging to her every word. Willow squeezes the hand that rests on her bare stomach, below her rucked-up shirt. Tara can't seriously think that she'd just take what she wanted and leave like some frat boy, right? Or maybe she finds it hard to ask for - well, anything, now that Willow thinks about it. 

Whatever the case, Tara deserves anything she wants and some extra. 

"You bet I do. But you've got a nice big bed right there..." Willow waves a hand towards the said bed. She'd quirk a teasing eyebrow if she didn't end up raising both her brows whenever she tries. 

"Would be a shame not to use it. If – if you can still walk." 

The moment her shyly smug remark slips out, Tara's eyes widen, and she bites her bottom lip as if she's hoping that she clamped her mouth shut a few seconds earlier. It’s so dark that Willow can’t make out for sure, but she must be blushing crimson. Yet when Willow laughs in surprised delight, the tension radiating from Tara dissipates in seconds. Apparently Willow’s not the only one who’s browsed paperbacks of dubious quality, but Tara saying things like that with that tone… Yeah, the room’s definitely getting warm again. 

"Oh, you've been holding out on me!" Willow grins and pulls Tara into a kiss that turns into another, and then another. Seems like they'll stay down here a while longer. "Keep it coming." 

Tara tucks her head to nuzzle Willow's neck. Her voice is bright with a wide smile. "I'll try. Are we going to bed or..." 

"If we can get some light here." Now it’s Willow's turn to stumble and feel her face heat up. "I... want to see you." 

Okay, kind of late for blushing, what with her clothes in disarray and Tara's fingers still damp on her skin, but her overactive brain is busy conjuring images that the shape and feel of Tara's criminally overdressed body hinted at while they groped at each other with a curious mix of nerves and wild abandon. 

"Ah." Tara doesn't lift her head. "Hope you won't be too disappointed." 

Her tone is light enough, but the undercurrent of self-deprecation rings a bit too genuine. Willow's knee-jerk reaction is to get defensive - _Does she really think I'm that shallow?_ \- but it’s immediately replaced by determination to hex everyone who's ever made Tara feel less than perfect. 

"You could never disappoint me, okay?" Willow would pull Tara closer if possible, but as it it, she has to settle on kissing the top of her head. "Never. Not even if you tried because you're just that awesome – and I'm laying it way too thick, aren't I?" 

Tara's laughter never fails to make Willow's heart do cartwheels; the the sound of it is all the more precious for its rarity. 

"Maybe a little. But thanks." Tara's lips find Willow's jaw, then the corner of her mouth. They're slightly dry - her vanilla lip-gloss wore off a dozen kisses ago - and Willow can’t get enough of them. "I want to see you, too." 

Clearly the time has come for less talking, more action. Willow shifts to stand, and Tara drags her up after her, into her arms. The lighting of the candles is a lengthy process - neither of them trusts their concentration enough to attempt a spell that’d light a single candle, let alone all of them, so they’re left trying to strike a delicate balance between kissing each other senseless and not setting the room on fire with matchsticks. 

By the time they fall on the bed, awash in golden glow and the scent of lavender, Willow’s heartbeat is painful against her ribs, and she aches with a vague but insistent need for _more_ , and judging by Tara's quick quiet breaths and invitingly parted lips, she’s not the only one. Plus the poor girl still hasn't gotten off tonight. 

Willow takes a deep breath and slowly exhales to center herself like she does before an exam or a trying spell. 

"Tell me what to do?" she whispers, suddenly self-conscious about how clueless she is. 

Sure, she’s thought about this, but there’s a world of difference between indulging in a daydream and actually having Tara here, soft and bare and real in her arms. For all that her hands have been itching to touch Tara, she has only the faintest idea what to do with them. 

Tara responds by kissing her, slow and languid, as though they have all the time in the world – and now they do, don’t they? At least till the next apocalypse rears its ugly head, but that's life on Hellmouth. Better carpe this diem while they can, and so Willow kisses Tara back; gets lost in her taste and scent, all of her, and the longer the night goes on, the surer Willow’s hands grow.


End file.
